Lol great story pool can lead us to some strange places
Share your favorite pool story's
- Thread starter Fastrockyf
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Now that's a fvkcing story! Who was the guy??
ruspherious1
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great story i love it when guys call fouls on them selves when there opponents dont see it . classy the game deserves that kind of respect much like golf hate to see grindy cheats.. there not just in pool ..but the game is synonymous with that kind of behavior sadly
i think i told this story on here quite a while ago but what the hey .. i will tell it again.
back in the mid 80's i lived in west palm beach fla. one fri after work a co worker asked for a ride home. on the way to his house he asked what i was doin that night. i told him nothing that my g/f was outs town.
he said lets go have a few beers and shoot some pool. i said ok. we go to his fav hangout and there are some guys playing for 10.00 a game. joe played a couple of times and lost both.... then he sat at the bar flirtin with some girl.
i had not played any yet... just sat there watching. being the nit i am i did not want to donate 10.00 a rack to shoot some pool.
after a couple of beers i said what the heck ...i was wanting to play some.
sure enough i lost the 1st rack. put my quarters up and waited for my turn gain. i won that one...and the next....and the next. then the 1st guy i beat comes back up again and wanted to raise it to 20.00. i di not want to but he insisted and i said ok.
after i won a few more he is wanting to raise again. i said ok. things got kinda hazy as 6 or 7 beers been consumed by then and i was kinda running on auto pilot and still winning.
next thing i know my opponent who until then i did not know he owned the bar hollered at joe who he knew quite well" WHAT THE FVCK YOU BRINGING IN THIS HUSTLER FOR.? " joe ...who was still sitting at the bar with that girl said ...he aint no hustler... he works with me.
he said i know a hustler when i see one ... both of yall get the fvck outa my bar and never come back.
on the way to his house joe was giving me shit about being banned from a bar he has been going to for years. then he asked me if i was really a hustler. i told him no and that i have not shot any pool for about 8 or 9 months till that night. joe said i did not watch ya'll play but you must be pretty damn good to beat" what ever his name was ". joe said that guy never lost and for him to call me a hustler indicated i played pretty damn good.
now here is where it gets real interesting. as i said my g/f was outa town for a few days. well a few days after she gets back i come walking in the house from work. she calmly walks up to me holding a paper bag. i say whats this ? she says look in it.
i open the bag and see a used condom.... i say what the hell is this ? she said ....thats what i wanna know. she said i found it wedged in the back seat while cleaning out your car.
my mind is racing a hundred miles an hour trying to figure out where did it come from > ten it dawned on me. the night i was out with joe he borrowed the car to get cigs while i was shooting pool. i tell her the story and say i won a few hundred that night and joe used the car while i was shooting.
next day she shows up at work and asks for joe. when she confronts him of course he denies it. she drags him over to where i am telling me he denies it i tell him to come clean which he does. i don't think she ever really believed us.
months later we split up and i start bar hopping and shooting pool. i got called a hustler a buncha times back then lol.
back in the mid 80's i lived in west palm beach fla. one fri after work a co worker asked for a ride home. on the way to his house he asked what i was doin that night. i told him nothing that my g/f was outs town.
he said lets go have a few beers and shoot some pool. i said ok. we go to his fav hangout and there are some guys playing for 10.00 a game. joe played a couple of times and lost both.... then he sat at the bar flirtin with some girl.
i had not played any yet... just sat there watching. being the nit i am i did not want to donate 10.00 a rack to shoot some pool.
after a couple of beers i said what the heck ...i was wanting to play some.
sure enough i lost the 1st rack. put my quarters up and waited for my turn gain. i won that one...and the next....and the next. then the 1st guy i beat comes back up again and wanted to raise it to 20.00. i di not want to but he insisted and i said ok.
after i won a few more he is wanting to raise again. i said ok. things got kinda hazy as 6 or 7 beers been consumed by then and i was kinda running on auto pilot and still winning.
next thing i know my opponent who until then i did not know he owned the bar hollered at joe who he knew quite well" WHAT THE FVCK YOU BRINGING IN THIS HUSTLER FOR.? " joe ...who was still sitting at the bar with that girl said ...he aint no hustler... he works with me.
he said i know a hustler when i see one ... both of yall get the fvck outa my bar and never come back.
on the way to his house joe was giving me shit about being banned from a bar he has been going to for years. then he asked me if i was really a hustler. i told him no and that i have not shot any pool for about 8 or 9 months till that night. joe said i did not watch ya'll play but you must be pretty damn good to beat" what ever his name was ". joe said that guy never lost and for him to call me a hustler indicated i played pretty damn good.
now here is where it gets real interesting. as i said my g/f was outa town for a few days. well a few days after she gets back i come walking in the house from work. she calmly walks up to me holding a paper bag. i say whats this ? she says look in it.
i open the bag and see a used condom.... i say what the hell is this ? she said ....thats what i wanna know. she said i found it wedged in the back seat while cleaning out your car.
my mind is racing a hundred miles an hour trying to figure out where did it come from > ten it dawned on me. the night i was out with joe he borrowed the car to get cigs while i was shooting pool. i tell her the story and say i won a few hundred that night and joe used the car while i was shooting.
next day she shows up at work and asks for joe. when she confronts him of course he denies it. she drags him over to where i am telling me he denies it i tell him to come clean which he does. i don't think she ever really believed us.
months later we split up and i start bar hopping and shooting pool. i got called a hustler a buncha times back then lol.
Charlie Hustle pm'ed me asking the same question & I came back to the thread & found your question so I'll tell you the same thing here & maybe somebody else will read this & be able to tell you more than I can. As I said in my earlier post none of the guys in their prime at that tourney seemed to know who he was before the match. His name was Dino something, a long Italian last name that began with a C. I remember finding it unusual because of the old saying that you don't mess with someone who's last name ends in a vowel & this guys first & last name ended in vowels. After the match was over a lot of guys were talking about him trying to figure out who he was & there were a few old timers there that seemed to know. One of them said he had been a real strong player that had come out of southern Maryland in the 70's & early 80's. that back then he'd been a regular at halls like Guys & Dolls in Suitland & Weinie Beanies old place Jack & Jill's. that he could play anything but his strongest game was Banks. This guy said he'd gone on the road with another strong player for a few years & made a killing & when he came back home he'd hung it up, got married & had a few kids & that until that tournament that he hadn't seen him in 15 years or so. I'd never seen him before that & I've never seen him since but what I saw that day was something. As I said in my earlier post, early in the match he played ok, a solid shortstop but after Ginky parked the 7 & cue ball on the short rails at opposite ends of the table & Taunted him I saw a Demon, firing banks in from everywhere, sledgehammer break, getting out from everywhere, pure raw firepower. As I told Charlie in the pm the funny thing was that loss put him in the losers bracket so he was still in the tournament but he broke down after that match & walked out of the hall. He didn't show for his losers bracket match, he forfeited it. Listening to that old timer talking about him after the match I only wished I had been able to see him in his prime, that guy said he was a real monster then & from what I saw that day I don't have any doubts about that. Maybe someone else will read this & be able to tell you more than I can about him. This guy was something to see.
Why am I the Colonel? Because I always get the chicken
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You're looking at it with a "glass is half empty" attitude. It was a GIRL who just happened to have a penis.
Way to be optimistic brother!
I'm getting old. Well into my 30's now. It's all about perspective.:thumbup:
The Durham Railbird
Years ago, there was a place in Durham, NC named Sports Room. It was a little house that stood all by itself and was actually a pool room. This was the first day of our road trip. We happened to walk in there during the middle of the day, which in the summertime, most of the younger pool players were out playing golf. The place looked deader than a doornail.
In the back room, there were a bunch of older gentlemen seated around a snooker table playing poker. In the front room, there were three tables, and all were vacant, with no action. They did have a big old green bird with a red head sitting on a perch, however, which caught my attention. Now, that's what I'd call a *real* railbird. :grin:
So my road partner (Michael "Geese" Gerace) says to the house man, "Anybody want to play some 9-ball?" The house man said he'll try him some. I was a little green about who's who in pool back then, but this house man played strong. He might have been a top player, for all we knew. :smile-square:
Another thing about being on the road in the '80s that's a wee bit different than today is that when road agents would be trying to sneak up in a pool room to get action, they usually walked in the joint sans their cue. They don't want to blow their identity, so they pick a house cue from the wall and play with it. This can be a real disadvantage if you're playing a house pro who's using their own personal cue. :yes:
Within a few games, we were stuck a couple C-notes, and being that this was our first day on the road, it wasn't a good way to start the road trip. The house man always has the advantage, I guess, as they know the table rolls, but that's part of hurdle a road agent has to overcome if he's going to make any dough on the road.
Finally, it looked as if Geese was going to win a game. He was getting ready to shoot the money ball, but he had kind of an odd angle to make it. However, it was doable. He fired at it and the cueball scratched.
Right at that moment, the house parrot sitting on his perch screeches out the words "Good shot." You could have fried an egg on Geese's head at that moment. He turned around to look at this parrot, and I through he was going to choke him.:shocked:
Geese immediately made a beeline for the door, and we drove out of town, a little lighter in the pockets.
In the words of Willie Nelson, we were on the road again. :joyful:
Years ago, there was a place in Durham, NC named Sports Room. It was a little house that stood all by itself and was actually a pool room. This was the first day of our road trip. We happened to walk in there during the middle of the day, which in the summertime, most of the younger pool players were out playing golf. The place looked deader than a doornail.
In the back room, there were a bunch of older gentlemen seated around a snooker table playing poker. In the front room, there were three tables, and all were vacant, with no action. They did have a big old green bird with a red head sitting on a perch, however, which caught my attention. Now, that's what I'd call a *real* railbird. :grin:
So my road partner (Michael "Geese" Gerace) says to the house man, "Anybody want to play some 9-ball?" The house man said he'll try him some. I was a little green about who's who in pool back then, but this house man played strong. He might have been a top player, for all we knew. :smile-square:
Another thing about being on the road in the '80s that's a wee bit different than today is that when road agents would be trying to sneak up in a pool room to get action, they usually walked in the joint sans their cue. They don't want to blow their identity, so they pick a house cue from the wall and play with it. This can be a real disadvantage if you're playing a house pro who's using their own personal cue. :yes:
Within a few games, we were stuck a couple C-notes, and being that this was our first day on the road, it wasn't a good way to start the road trip. The house man always has the advantage, I guess, as they know the table rolls, but that's part of hurdle a road agent has to overcome if he's going to make any dough on the road.
Finally, it looked as if Geese was going to win a game. He was getting ready to shoot the money ball, but he had kind of an odd angle to make it. However, it was doable. He fired at it and the cueball scratched.
Right at that moment, the house parrot sitting on his perch screeches out the words "Good shot." You could have fried an egg on Geese's head at that moment. He turned around to look at this parrot, and I through he was going to choke him.:shocked:
Geese immediately made a beeline for the door, and we drove out of town, a little lighter in the pockets.
In the words of Willie Nelson, we were on the road again. :joyful:
Fun thread. I was on vacation one about 10 years ago in Ocean City Maryland with my wife. We went to a bar called The Green Turtle and they have a couple of tables. I was playing with this one guy and winning and at one point he asks to play for 5 bucks. I say sure. The guy had a girl with him who was a bit hot and dressed in a nice outfit with a skirt. Now she is trying to distract me by dancing around in front of my shots and the boyfriend is encouraging her. I still know I should beat the guy even with the distractions, and let's face it, it was fun to watch, so I just keep shooting and go with it. So I get to the 8, and have an absolute duck. The girl now proceeds to get directly over the pocket, throw her leg over the table, throw up the skirt, and the rest, and goes absolutely national geographic on me. I missed the shot lol. My wife and I still laugh about it.
Well damn, chicken man-man. That mid-Atlantic area is my neck o da woods. Well before my time, but I surely know someone who would know of him.
Not that I will ever be able to figure it out...
Not that I will ever be able to figure it out...
For the veteran AzB-ers, remember this?
Originally Posted by Smorgass Bored
(*<~ It was on my way home from New Orleans two weeks ago ......
<insert flashback music here>
I stopped at my brother's workplace and was talked into spending two days at Spring Break assisting the young girls in their wet T-shirt competitions and bikini contests. Man, I've still got it and so do they.
Anyway, it seems that brother lives ON THE BEACH (about 100' to the surf) of the Gulf of Mexico in a beautiful 3 bedroom home will ALL the amenities (I'd like to swap places with him- including significant other). He lives just east of Panama City in a little beach community called St. Joe Beach. There is a place there (within crawling distance of the house) called "Regan's Pub & Oyster Bar" Est. Nov.14th 2000 157,920 Oyster's Shucked (when the t-shirt was printed).
After a hard day of rubbing up against nubile young things in Panama City we ended up at Regan's depleting their oyster stock and keeping the 'shucker' employed. The bar area had a 4x8 pooltable and the proximity to the beach and the breeze had it in the lower 50?. I had on my Planet 9-Ball jacket with the BIG logo of a planet that looks like a 9-ball (duh).
All the locals wanted to challenge my brother and I to some partners 8-ball and we obliged. We won every game for hours, no matter what rules they made up along the way. We stopped to take a break and eat MORE oysters and one of the players asked me what I 'did' in Tampa. I told him that I was a professional pool player (my brother almost blew an oyster out of his nose).
This fellow named Jim-Bob wanted to play me heads up. I told him that I'd play, but I wouldn't play cheap. He told me that he didn't care WHAT we played for as he racked the balls and I prepared to break. I'd told him that I was called Tampa Tubby and as I smashed the balls I exclaimed that I was playing him for his 'Bob'.
At first, he thought that I was kidding, but as it dawned on him that I was serious he became VERY nervous. All activity stopped in the building as EVERYONE came to sweat this game. The most serious game to ever take place in St. Joe Beach,Fl. I got down to the eightball and Jim-Bob said that I had to 'bank it' AND we were also playing last pocket 8-ball. I'd made my last ball in the side pocket and was in trouble with the way his balls were laying on the table. When I asked if I could play the eight off of one of his balls and he said yes, I kicked the eight from near the end rail and off his ball into 'my' side pocket. GAME OVER. I'd won 'the Bob'.
Everyone laughed and cheered while now calling me "Tampa Tubby-Bob". At the same time,everyone now called Jim-Bob simply JIM. Jim was devasted. It was sinking in that he had lost his 'Bob' and he didn't like it one little bit. People were now calling him 'Bobless' and his boss (who was present) threatened to fire him and make him 'Jobless Bobless'. He's been 'Bobbited'. He wanted a re-match. I said NO. I told him that I would return in exactly one year and play him ONE GAME and an opportunity to win his 'Bob' back.
I've spoken to my brother a few times since I've left St. Joe Beach and he assures me NOONE has called him Jim-Bob since he lost and that the word has spread up & down the beach. They're planning a big 'special day' for next year and my return. I'm thinking about breaking out my sling,walker, eye-patch, etc. to make it REALLY exciting.
I know that I dance to beat of a different drum (at least I didn't insist that he throw in a moon pie), but everyone seems to like it (so far). I didn't get a BOP on the nose. Life is good. Does it get any better than this ?
Tampa Tubby-Bob
Cool Smorgie greatest hits thread ---> HERE
Originally Posted by Smorgass Bored
(*<~ It was on my way home from New Orleans two weeks ago ......
<insert flashback music here>
I stopped at my brother's workplace and was talked into spending two days at Spring Break assisting the young girls in their wet T-shirt competitions and bikini contests. Man, I've still got it and so do they.
Anyway, it seems that brother lives ON THE BEACH (about 100' to the surf) of the Gulf of Mexico in a beautiful 3 bedroom home will ALL the amenities (I'd like to swap places with him- including significant other). He lives just east of Panama City in a little beach community called St. Joe Beach. There is a place there (within crawling distance of the house) called "Regan's Pub & Oyster Bar" Est. Nov.14th 2000 157,920 Oyster's Shucked (when the t-shirt was printed).
After a hard day of rubbing up against nubile young things in Panama City we ended up at Regan's depleting their oyster stock and keeping the 'shucker' employed. The bar area had a 4x8 pooltable and the proximity to the beach and the breeze had it in the lower 50?. I had on my Planet 9-Ball jacket with the BIG logo of a planet that looks like a 9-ball (duh).
All the locals wanted to challenge my brother and I to some partners 8-ball and we obliged. We won every game for hours, no matter what rules they made up along the way. We stopped to take a break and eat MORE oysters and one of the players asked me what I 'did' in Tampa. I told him that I was a professional pool player (my brother almost blew an oyster out of his nose).
This fellow named Jim-Bob wanted to play me heads up. I told him that I'd play, but I wouldn't play cheap. He told me that he didn't care WHAT we played for as he racked the balls and I prepared to break. I'd told him that I was called Tampa Tubby and as I smashed the balls I exclaimed that I was playing him for his 'Bob'.
At first, he thought that I was kidding, but as it dawned on him that I was serious he became VERY nervous. All activity stopped in the building as EVERYONE came to sweat this game. The most serious game to ever take place in St. Joe Beach,Fl. I got down to the eightball and Jim-Bob said that I had to 'bank it' AND we were also playing last pocket 8-ball. I'd made my last ball in the side pocket and was in trouble with the way his balls were laying on the table. When I asked if I could play the eight off of one of his balls and he said yes, I kicked the eight from near the end rail and off his ball into 'my' side pocket. GAME OVER. I'd won 'the Bob'.
Everyone laughed and cheered while now calling me "Tampa Tubby-Bob". At the same time,everyone now called Jim-Bob simply JIM. Jim was devasted. It was sinking in that he had lost his 'Bob' and he didn't like it one little bit. People were now calling him 'Bobless' and his boss (who was present) threatened to fire him and make him 'Jobless Bobless'. He's been 'Bobbited'. He wanted a re-match. I said NO. I told him that I would return in exactly one year and play him ONE GAME and an opportunity to win his 'Bob' back.
I've spoken to my brother a few times since I've left St. Joe Beach and he assures me NOONE has called him Jim-Bob since he lost and that the word has spread up & down the beach. They're planning a big 'special day' for next year and my return. I'm thinking about breaking out my sling,walker, eye-patch, etc. to make it REALLY exciting.
I know that I dance to beat of a different drum (at least I didn't insist that he throw in a moon pie), but everyone seems to like it (so far). I didn't get a BOP on the nose. Life is good. Does it get any better than this ?
Tampa Tubby-Bob
Cool Smorgie greatest hits thread ---> HERE
Thanks for bring back the laughs!
I like this so I'll share.
I played intermittently through my life up until I was 16. I played wherever I could - at the bowling alley during league season (where I was a league bowler) and also when I was a about 14 at my aunt and uncle's house in the basement where they had their table. Then they moved and I didn't have access to a table.
September 2013 rolled around and a poolhall opened up by my house - and I played leisurely until an APA team captain approached me and asked me to join his team -to which I said yes =P I was and still am 19 - and I played without having an APA membership and a friend told me you had to be 21 to play and I stopped. I thought I played an illegal match (because I was under 21) but still beat my opponent.
I didn't return to the league because I thought I was under-age. I still played pool and practiced my game heavily until I called the Illiana League representative and asked him about the specifics of playing - and it turned out that I can play APA under 21 as long as the house holding it is fine with me being there.
So now - I play on Thursday nights at the league, on Friday nights at my mentor's house, and probably 2-3 more times through the week at the poolhall by my house.
Hell! I remember playing pool on a little 4 foot table I had in my room at like midnight and getting yelled at for it because I had school the next morning
-Richard
I played intermittently through my life up until I was 16. I played wherever I could - at the bowling alley during league season (where I was a league bowler) and also when I was a about 14 at my aunt and uncle's house in the basement where they had their table. Then they moved and I didn't have access to a table.
September 2013 rolled around and a poolhall opened up by my house - and I played leisurely until an APA team captain approached me and asked me to join his team -to which I said yes =P I was and still am 19 - and I played without having an APA membership and a friend told me you had to be 21 to play and I stopped. I thought I played an illegal match (because I was under 21) but still beat my opponent.
I didn't return to the league because I thought I was under-age. I still played pool and practiced my game heavily until I called the Illiana League representative and asked him about the specifics of playing - and it turned out that I can play APA under 21 as long as the house holding it is fine with me being there.
So now - I play on Thursday nights at the league, on Friday nights at my mentor's house, and probably 2-3 more times through the week at the poolhall by my house.
Hell! I remember playing pool on a little 4 foot table I had in my room at like midnight and getting yelled at for it because I had school the next morning
-Richard